The Dubliners - The Travelling People lyrics
[The Dubliners - The Travelling People lyrics]
I'm a freeborn man of the travelling people
Got no fixed abode, with nomads I am numbered
Country lanes and byways were always my ways
I've never fancied being lumbered
Well, we knew the woods
And the resting places
And the small birds sang when
Winter time was over
Then we'd pack our load and be on the road
They were good old times for the rover
In the open ground, you could stop and linger
For a week or two
For time was not your master
Then away you'd jog with your horse and dog
Nice and easy, no need to go faster
And sometimes we'd meet up with other people
Hear the news or else swap family information
At the country fairs we'd be meeting there
All the people of the travelling nation
I've made willow creels and
The heather besoms and I've even done some
Begging and some hawking
And I've lain there spent
Wrapped up in my tent
And I've listened to the old folks talking
All you freeborn men of the travelling people
Every tinker, rolling stone and gypsy rover
Winds of change are blowing
Old ways are going
Your travelling days will soon be over
I'm a freeborn man of the travelling people
Got no fixed abode, with nomads I am numbered
Country lanes and byways were always my ways
I've never fancied being lumbered
Got no fixed abode, with nomads I am numbered
Country lanes and byways were always my ways
I've never fancied being lumbered
Well, we knew the woods
And the resting places
And the small birds sang when
Winter time was over
Then we'd pack our load and be on the road
They were good old times for the rover
In the open ground, you could stop and linger
For a week or two
For time was not your master
Then away you'd jog with your horse and dog
Nice and easy, no need to go faster
And sometimes we'd meet up with other people
Hear the news or else swap family information
At the country fairs we'd be meeting there
All the people of the travelling nation
I've made willow creels and
The heather besoms and I've even done some
Begging and some hawking
And I've lain there spent
Wrapped up in my tent
And I've listened to the old folks talking
All you freeborn men of the travelling people
Every tinker, rolling stone and gypsy rover
Winds of change are blowing
Old ways are going
Your travelling days will soon be over
I'm a freeborn man of the travelling people
Got no fixed abode, with nomads I am numbered
Country lanes and byways were always my ways
I've never fancied being lumbered